


Model Behavior

by roe87



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Cute, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, First Meetings, Fluff, Frenemies Bucky Barnes & Sam Wilson, M/M, Meet-Cute, Model Bucky Barnes, Photographer Sam Wilson, Receptionist Bucky, Snarky Bucky, meet ugly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-22
Updated: 2017-09-22
Packaged: 2018-12-31 16:53:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12136896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roe87/pseuds/roe87
Summary: Sam Wilson is a photographer, just trying to do his job.He does not have the time to snipe with the hot, Russian speaking, smartass guy on the reception desk.Even if he is ridiculously attractive.





	Model Behavior

**Author's Note:**

> The amazing [waltermittie](http://waltermittie.tumblr.com) did the art for this fic! 
> 
> ~ ~ ~
> 
> Just want to say a huge THANK YOU to [melonbutterfly](http://archiveofourown.org/users/melonbutterfly/pseuds/melonbutterfly) for all their help and encouragement while writing this. It wouldn't be up without you!
> 
> ~ ~ ~

 

When Sam had left the air force four years ago, he knew he'd need to do something to subsidise his income. Between volunteering at the VA and rediscovering his own interests again, Sam fell back on his life long passion of photography.

It was thanks to Steve, an army vet he'd met through the VA who'd admired Sam's portraits project, that Sam had gotten a new gig with a modelling agency and studio uptown. He'd been there once, to meet with the owner of the business; a friend of Steve's named Natasha Romanov, and the manager, Maria Hill. They'd gotten on pretty good, and they'd liked his portfolio. Now he'd been called in to do a set of head-shots for some of their newer models.

Head-shots were easy. Sam could deal with head-shots.

Air photographic reconnaissance had been his specialty. Sam hadn't dabbled in any high fashion themes since college, but he was willing to give it a go.

Sam arrived at the building promptly, because he believed in being punctual. He buzzed at the nondescript doorway at street level, and waited for a voice to acknowledge his presence.

Sam tapped his foot a few times as he waited, and buzzed again.

The intercom clicked on. "Yes?" a male voice said tersely.

Sam raised an eyebrow, but leaned in to say, "Hey, it's Sam Wilson, the photographer. I'm here for the ten AM shoot."

There was no reply, but the door buzzed loudly as it unlocked. Sam hmmed to himself and pushed his way inside with his camera bag.

He wondered where the receptionist from his last visit was. She had been way friendlier.

Sam waited for the elevator, and checked his phone. There was a text from Maria, the manager, saying she was held up but would send someone to collect him from reception when he got there.

He went up in the elevator, stepping out onto the floor marked _Widow's Model Management._ The reception area was modest, furnished with only a few black leather seats, and one tall spiky looking plant in the corner that Sam wagered would do some serious damage as a make-shift weapon.

Photos of magazine covers hung on the walls. The place was elegant, minimalist, and no nonsense. Sam liked that, and he didn't feel too out of place in his casual clothes.

The person on reception wasn't Darcy, the receptionist Sam had met before. Whoever it was had his back to Sam, and was talking quickly in Russian.

Sam went over to a chair, shed his bag and jacket. He wasn't about to compete for the attention of this receptionist, and he knew Maria would send someone for him anyway.

Sam sat down, and sent a text to Maria telling her he was hanging five in reception.

No point interrupting the receptionist.

The guy was still chatting away in Russian, turned around in his chair and gave a slow, rumbling laugh at whatever the other person on the phone had said.

Sounded like he was flirting.

Curious, Sam glanced up, and saw the guy was writing something behind the desk, his eyes down. There was a small head-set clipped to his ear, allowing him to talk hands free.

Sam took a deep breath and went back to his phone. He flicked through his saved photos of head-shots, priming himself to get into photographer mode.

He didn't really notice when the guy on the desk ended his call, until he cleared his throat pointedly and said, "May I help you?"

Sam looked up, puzzled.

Either this guy had a chip on his shoulder, or he was just snooty.

"It's okay, Maria is sending someone to get me," Sam informed him.

The guy behind the desk stared back flatly, then used his pen to tap the open book on the front of the desk.

"Gotta sign you in, pal," he drawled, Brooklyn accent coming through thick.

Sam suppressed a sigh, and got up. “Okay, sure.” He pocketed his phone, leaving his other belongings on the seat. He was the only one in reception anyway.

Sam went to take the pen that the guy held out, glancing at him as he did. He was actually pretty stunning to look at. A strong jawline dusted with dark stubble, high cheekbones and a straight nose; all around perfect features. Pale eyes, maybe blue or gray, contrasting with dark hair expertly styled into a fashionable quiff. He wore a dark fitted shirt with an iridescent magenta tie, which wouldn't have worked on many others but with his dark hair and pale skin, looked real good.

Probably a model, Sam thought dismissively. Maybe that was why he had a pissy attitude on the front desk.

Sam must've stared a beat too long, as a slow smile began to spread over the man's pretty mouth.

"Write your name where it says _name_ ," he said, like he was explaining something to a child.

Sam tried to ignore the bait. He placed this guy as the same age, or maybe a bit younger than him. Either way, far too old to be childish. Sam looked at the book instead, and got on with writing his name, then the date and time.

The receptionist dropped a small white card on the desk. "You'll have to fill out a pass, too."

Sam filled out the pass. He didn't bother with small talk.

When he was done, the receptionist slipped the card into a plastic holder with a clip, and offered it to Sam.

"Thanks," Sam said, because he had manners.

As he was clipping it on, the guy said, "So. Photographer, huh?"

Sam looked at him. "Yeah, that's right." Then he turned around and walked back to his chair, fully intending to ignore this cute boy with his weird attitude.

Sam sat down, and got his phone out to aid in the ignoring.

There was silence for a few beats, then the guy spoke again, making Sam look up.

"Yeah, hey. Your _photographer_ is here."

He was speaking on the phone, though he looked over at Sam and smirked. Leaning back in his chair like he owned the place.

Sam frowned. Seriously, who was this guy?

"Yeah," the guy said in that flirty tone again, then started to laugh, low and dirty. "Oh, yeah?" he lowered his voice. "Is that so?"

Sam had to tear his eyes away.

Damn, he had a nice voice. Deep and gravelly.

Concentrate on work, Sam.

He silently willed Maria and whoever she was sending for him to hurry the hell up.

 

Eventually, the young red-haired model slash assistant, Wanda, appeared to take Sam through to the studio area.

At last, Sam thought.

The guy on the desk was talking Russian again on a call, and it was chipping away at Sam's resolve to ignore him.

Sam hadn't particularly considered the Russian language as hot before, but now he sure did.

Before Wanda had even said hello, Sam was collecting his things in a hurry and striding through the door.

And the damn receptionist paused his Russian as Sam passed to say, "Have fun taking pictures."

Sam turned to glance at him, still unsure if the guy was being a jerk or... Sam wasn't sure what.

The guy flashed a grin, then spun around in his seat so Sam couldn't see him.

Well, Sam thought, forget it. He'd probably never have to see him again after today.

 

 

Sam didn't see the attractive smartass on reception again; when he'd finished his assignment and passed by the front desk, the smiley brunette, Darcy, was there instead.

Sam didn't admit to himself that he'd felt a touch disappointed. He had plenty of work to occupy his time with.

Male models slash receptionists with too much snark did not fit into Sam's schedule. Nope.

 

 

~

 

A week later, Sam called Widow's agency because he needed to liaise with Maria about the proofs he had ready, and she hadn't returned his messages.

When the gravelly male voice answered the call, drawling out a welcome that sounded smug and bored at the same time, Sam knew it was that guy.

"Hey, it's Sam Wilson," he said, "I need to speak to either Maria or Natasha about these head-shots, if they're around?"

Silence followed, and Sam debated adding on a _please_.

Then the voice said, "Hold the line."

Before Sam could respond, music flooded through the speaker, a sombre classical piece.

Weird hold music, Sam thought, waiting.

The voice came back suddenly, the tail end of a dirty laugh filling the air. "Maria is with a client, but Natasha can speak to you."

"Okay," Sam said. "Thanks."

"Oh, you're very welcome," he replied, smile evident in his voice. "Anything else I can do for you today?"

Sam was momentarily tongue tied, the sexy voice in his ear having thrown him.

"Uh... no, I'm good, thanks."

There was a pause, then the voice said, "If you say so. Transferring now."

The hold music blared again, and then Natasha was picking up. Sam barely had a chance to wonder what that was all about.

 

~

 

Two weeks later, Sam was back at Widow's agency to do a shoot with a new model they wanted to pitch for editorial work. He arrived early, said hello to Darcy on the front desk (and was not at all disappointed that the guy wasn't there instead, nope) and got set up in the studio with a white backdrop.

Wanda assisted in getting the lights ready, and posing for some test shots. Maria Hill was on hand supervising, but as the model was running late she sat on a chair with her tablet while they waited.

 

When the model was still late nearly forty-five minutes after she was due to arrive, Maria was getting visibly tense. Sam figured someone would be getting fired today. He was pleased it wouldn't be him.

Although if no one showed up, he probably wouldn't get paid either.

He took a few more test shots with Wanda, as she could add them to her portfolio if she wanted. Sam wouldn't object; Wanda was cool.

The door opened, and they all looked up. It was _that guy_ , Sam realised, strutting toward them wearing an expensive looking black suit, and a bright blue tie against a dark shirt. His hair was coiffed and styled to perfection.

"I hear someone is tardy," he said with a teasing smirk. His comment was directed to Maria.

"Apparently she'll be here any minute," Maria said tightly. "She better do a good shoot, or she's gone."

"Ouch." The guy grinned wide. "Just give her a chewing out and a warning this time. We're all late sometimes, Maria."

Sam watched with interest. Who was this guy? Something to do with the agency? Or someone's boyfriend?

"While we're killing time, James," Maria said, eyes narrowing at him, "you could use some new test shots."

The guy, James, gave her an amused look. "Oh, yeah?"

"Yes," Maria confirmed. "Get in front of the camera."

James raised a brow, but didn't question her. He strutted over, hands in pockets and looking confident. He flashed a smile at Wanda and Sam. "I'm ready for my close up, Mr DeMille."

Sam huffed, amused at the _Sunset Boulevard_ reference. "Okay," he said, "just stand in..."

James walked onto the white paper, stopped in the centre and turned on his heel to give a perfect side on profile. He smirked, and arched a brow at Sam in question.

"Here good?"

Clearly, this guy was a lot more experienced than Sam had realised.

"That's fine," Sam said, and raised his camera. It was helpful to have it as a barrier, like a buffer between him and the gorgeous guy in front of him. James held still until Sam had focused the camera, and took the first two shots. The electronic beep of his camera, with the flash of the lights, sounded loud in the quiet studio.

Sam kept the camera on James as he tilted his head just a touch, giving Sam a whole new angle to work with.

This guy was certainly a pro. He already seemed to know what angles looked best for him and his incredible jawline.

Sam snapped away, and tried to concentrate on the shots, not the subject matter. Then James grinned, clearly not taking the whole thing very seriously. Sam took the photos anyway. Dude had a nice smile.

He took a few more shots, and James sort of rocked back on his heels a bit, hands still in his pockets like this was a walk in the park for him.

"Will that do?" he asked, amusement clear in his voice.

Sam lowered the camera, keeping his eyes on the small digital screen instead of looking at James. "Sure." He started flicking through the shots, pleased that he could already see some keepers. "Wanna take a look?"

"Why not," James drawled, and made his way over.

Sam plugged his camera into his tablet, and brought up a contact sheet of the shots. Wanda's were on there too, but she'd already looked through hers.

James came up behind Sam's shoulder, close enough to make Sam tense with surprise. If James noticed, he didn't say anything. He was busy peering at the screen. Sam made himself relax, and he tilted the screen to give James a better view.

"What's your expert opinion?" James asked dryly.

Sam wasn't sure if he was being sarcastic or not, and he elected to ignore any snark. He was being paid to be here, after all. If James didn't like his work, that wasn't Sam's problem.

"Let's see." Sam tapped the screen, bringing up the first image to get a better look. He silently did a quick flick through, double tapping the images he liked the best to highlight them. Every time he did that, a little white star appeared in the top corner of the image, bookmarking it.

All in all, Sam was pleased with the majority of them, which was mostly down to James and how well he'd positioned himself for the most flattering angle.

Sam brought up the bookmarked images, and passed the tablet to James.

"Those ones are good."

Their eyes met briefly as James took the tablet, and he offered Sam a small smile. Nothing like his knowing, confident grin before; this smile was less sure. Hesitant, even.

Sam hadn't expected that.

He watched James closely as he held Sam's tablet, and flicked through the images. James pursed his lips, which was distracting. Sam tried his best not to stare at James's mouth.

James nodded, and handed the tablet back. He looked up at Sam with a wider smile. "Not bad, huh," he said easily, that Brooklyn drawl coming in thick.

Sam was a little thrown by the comment, but decided to take it at face value. "Not bad at all," he agreed.

James held his gaze, then quickly looked away. "Uh. How were Wanda's shots?" he asked.

Sam rolled with the change of conversation, and answered, "Yeah, good." He brought up the shots of Wanda on his tablet, then tilted the screen to James.

"No, don't look at mine!" Wanda called from where she was sitting, engrossed with her phone.

"Why not?" James answered, grinning again. The tension that had been in the air before had effectively vanished.

"Because my hair looks a mess!" Wanda replied. "I haven't styled it."

James shrugged, seeming unbothered by Wanda's complaint. "Looks fine to me." He looked to Sam, and shot him a grin. "But maybe Photoshop can fix it?"

"I _heard_ that," Wanda said.

The door to the studio burst open, and a young woman bustled in. "Ms Hill," she gasped, out of breath. "I'm so sorry I'm late!"

Maria gave the girl a withering look. "Make sure it doesn't happen again, Kate. Go on and get ready. Be quick."

"Yes, I will! Thank you." She hurried past with her bags, over to the changing area in the far corner.

"Well," James said, glancing at Sam, "time for the real work to begin. Later!"

He walked off, leaving Sam frowning in his wake.

Sam wasn't sure if he was being over sensitive, or if James was just all over the place; friendly one minute, and a jerk the next.

Sam decided to put it aside, and just do his job.

 

 

He didn't see James again anyway; dude must've slipped out of the studio soon after the model arrived and he hadn't come back.

Sam appreciated being left to get on with his work. He didn't need any more distractions from snarky pretty boys with icy blue eyes and nice, full lips.

Besides, Sam had plenty of time to examine James's model features when he studied all the shots he'd taken that day on his laptop, in the privacy of his apartment.

With no one there to judge him if he lingered on James's photos for too long.

Boy sure did take a good picture. Even if he was kinda annoying.

Because he could, Sam chose one image of James and opened it in Photoshop. He added a cartoon speech bubble near James's face, and wrote the words, _I'm a jerk!_

Then Sam snickered to himself and was about to delete the impromptu creation, but he paused. He decided to save it, but in his private Dropbox of photos, and not any of the agency ones.

Then he tried to get on with going through the rest of his images like a professional.

 

He lasted an hour. Barely one hour, and Sam was distracted again. He just couldn't help wondering about James. So, he ended up going online to the agency's website. He navigated to the page of male models, who were listed in alphabetical order by first names.

Sam scrolled down the page of faces, ignored them all until he got to the J's.

And there he was, the annoying jerk himself.

Sam clicked on the small picture of one _James Barnes_ , bringing up a new page. Thumbnails of images filled the screen, and when Sam moved his cursor over them they enlarged automatically.

And, damn. This guy had some really good shots. Clearly he'd done a lot of glossy spreads; his portfolio of images were nearly all shots that screamed _fashion shoot_. From sleek tailored suits to designer casual wear, James looked hot in every photo.

Somewhat inexplicably, there was a shot of James in a grey t-shirt, tight leather pants, and a very serious expression on his face while sprawled in an empty bath tub.

High fashion shoots usually made little sense to Sam but, regardless, he found his eyes drawn to the guy's long shapely legs. It was a rather provocative image, to see a man on his back with his legs up in the air like that.

It sent Sam's mind wandering places.

So he quickly closed the website down, and made himself focus on his actual job.

 

 

 

~

 

As it happened, when Sam met up with Steve and his fiancée, Peggy, later in the week for brunch, James came up in conversation. It was like Sam couldn't get away from the guy.

Steve had asked how it was going at the agency, seeing as it was his friend Natasha and his recommendation that'd swung Sam the gig in the first place.

"It's good, man," Sam said, setting down his fork and nodding. "Been a while since I done any fashion shoots, but I'm enjoying it so far."

Steve seemed pleased. "That's great! I'm glad you were able to get involved."

"Me too," Sam agreed.

"Any fun stories to share?" Peggy inquired, a smile teasing her red lips.

"Um. Not really," Sam said. "It's a small place and they're all good people, real professional. I admit, I was on the verge of being slightly intimidated by Natasha when we first met. She really knows her stuff."

Steve laughed. "She better not be giving you a hard time!"

"Oh no, not her," Sam said offhand.

Steve looked at him, at the same time Peggy did. "But someone else is?" she guessed.

"What?" Sam blinked, caught. "Uh. No?"

"Are you sure?" she asked.

Clearly she could read him like a book.

Sam's resolve broke, and he had to chuckle. "Well, there is this one guy on reception that likes to bust my chops now and then. It's no big deal. I can't work out if he's a jerk, or just maybe comes across that way."

"Oh?" Steve frowned in confusion. "I thought they had someone called Darcy on reception?"

"Yeah, they do, but he seems to fill in for her sometimes," Sam said. "It's nothing really."

"Maybe he's flirting with you," Peggy said. "You know how terrible men are at flirting, after all."

Sam smiled, but he disagreed. "No, I don't think I'm his type. Besides, he flirts with the ladies, as far as I can tell. With me, he's weird and snarky. But I can handle it."

"What's his name?" Peggy asked.

"Why?” Sam grinned at her. “You gonna go kick his ass for me?"

Peggy just smiled in reply.

"It's James," Sam said, hoping they didn't know who he was.

Peggy rolled her eyes so minutely, Sam almost missed it. "James Barnes," she said flatly.

"Um. Maybe?" Sam fudged, starting to wish he'd kept his mouth shut.

" _Bucky?_ " Steve said, surprised. "What's he doing on reception?"

"I wouldn't know, man." Sam looked between Steve and Peggy. "Wait, you know him?"

Peggy tactfully put a forkful of food into her mouth, chewed slowly and looked to Steve.

"Um, yeah," Steve said. "I've known him for years. And by the sounds of it, he probably is flirting with you."

Sam raised his eyebrows. "Say what?"

"He's terrible at flirting with guys," Steve explained, his cheeks flushing pink. "He flirts with people all the time, but he's genuinely terrible at it when he likes someone."

Peggy nodded, swallowing her mouthful. "Having seen it myself, I can agree."

"That's... not what I expected," Sam said.

Although it certainly wasn't unwelcome.

"Yeah, he gets all stupid and says dumb stuff," Steve said, smiling fondly. "He's just shy. Seriously, though, he's a good guy. Maybe if you match his bullshit, he'll relax around you."

"Well, I don't exactly want to talk back to my employers," Sam pointed out. "What does he do there?"

"He's a partner with Nat," Steve said. "They set up the business together. In fact, I specifically remember Bucky saying he was more of a silent partner, while Nat did the management side of things."

"Oh," Sam said.

That explained why he was a sarcastic jerk on reception then.

"Yeah, but I'm not gonna be smart with him if he's the boss, Steve."

Steve shrugged. "Trust me, he won't mind. He's a pain in the ass, but he has a good sense of humor."

Sam thought about that photo of James he'd doctored in Photoshop, and smirked to himself. "We'll see about that."

 

~

 

Three days later, Natasha called.

"I'm sorry it's short notice," she said, "but I need a photographer for an event in one week."

"Sure thing," Sam said, leaning on his breakfast counter. "What's the occasion?"

"It's a cocktail party, for some of the younger models," she explained.

"Okay. You want me to take candids, or...?"

"Candids would be perfect," Natasha said. "Or ask them to pose for camera, and we can always use the shots for promo or something else later."

"That's cool," Sam confirmed. "Should I wear a suit?"

"It is formal wear," Natasha said. The tapping of a keyboard filtered through the line. "I'm emailing you the details. It includes a non disclosure agreement."

Sam blinked, mildly surprised. "Okay. That's not a problem."

Natasha was quiet a beat, then spoke in a steely tone, "It's a private function, invite only. Some of the newer models are between the ages of eighteen and twenty-one, and they won't have their chaperones with them this time."

"Understood." Sam smirked to himself. "This is their test run?"

"With my agency, it is," Natasha said, voice lightening a little. "To put it bluntly, if anyone is unprofessional, I won't be putting them on the agency's books. But they don't know that yet."

"I'll keep it to myself," Sam promised. "I'm a pillar of discretion."

A small huff indicated Natasha's amusement. "Hopefully it will be drama free and everyone behaves themselves."

Sam opened his mouth, on the verge of asking if James would be there, but he decided to keep quiet.

"Yeah," he said, a smile tugging his mouth. "Hope everyone behaves."

 

~

 

The party was a black tie event, so Sam wore his favorite suit; tailored and charcoal grey, with a navy blue shirt and tie. He was looking forward to showing off a bit, but after he'd been there nearly two hours taking shots of all the glamorous party-goers, he had yet to lay eyes on James.

Sam had primed himself for James sliding on up to him with some teasing remark, but nothing.

Maybe he wasn't coming?

Sam tried to put James out of his mind, and focus on what he was there to do. Take photos.

The venue was brightly lit so Sam didn't need his flash much. They were in a private bar of a swanky hotel. Free champagne floated by on trays carried by wait staff, along with some excellent h'orderves that Sam sampled when he could.

The music was loud and boring; just forgettable club stuff. Sam wasn't a fan. Natasha and Maria were there in smart tailored suits, along with Wanda and Darcy who'd opted for sparkly cocktail dresses.

Wanda and Darcy were merry, but not outwardly drunk. Natasha and Maria weren't touching the champagne, and their eyes roved over the young models in the bar, watching closely.

Sam almost felt bad for the ones who were getting drunk and rowdy, but really if anyone was dumb enough to get drunk in front of their bosses... Well, Sam thought, good luck to them.

He got some nice candids of Wanda laughing with Darcy, then he moved on through the bar. He made sure he said hello to anyone he'd met previously, like T'Challa and Shuri, who were brother and sister and had been modelling since they were kids. After a few photos and a brief exchange, Sam left them to their conversation.

He didn't want Natasha to think he was slacking off. He was being paid to be there, after all.

Although when Sam went into the restroom, he wasn't expecting to be cornered by an overly enthusiastic teen named Peter.

Sam was busy trying to wash his hands at the sink, mindful of his expensive camera slung over his shoulder, while Peter approached him chattering about the recent photo shoot they'd done.

Peter was underage, so he wore a yellow wristband which indicated he couldn't drink. Not that he seemed to need it; kid had a buzz all his own and talked a hundred miles an hour about his shoot, quizzing Sam if it'd turned out okay.

He was a good kid. Sam tried to assure him that he was a natural and he'd done well, but Peter was relentless.

And he was blocking the exit. Sam didn't have the heart to tell the kid to go away.

The door opened, music from the party filtering in. Sam looked up, and was pleasantly surprised to see James standing there.

James's icy blue eyes met his, then flicked down to Peter before he broke into a grin. Peter hadn't noticed James enter, but he did stop talking when James clapped a hand onto Peter's shoulder, effectively guiding him away from Sam.

"Go eat some free food, kid," he told Peter, before opening the door and gently encouraging him through it. "Enjoy the party."

"Oh, I am, Mr Barnes!" Peter piped up, even as the door was closing on him. "It's really grea--"

James waved goodbye before he shut the door. Then he turned to face Sam, smiling in amusement. "He means well," James said quietly, almost like he was apologising.

"Yeah," Sam agreed, caught off guard. "Yeah, he's a good kid."

"He sure is." James looked away, let out a nervous laugh. "Um. Well, I'd better, uh..." He gestured at the stalls, and Sam caught on.

"Oh, yeah." He stepped aside, trying to come up with something to say. "Thanks for, uh. For the save."

James flashed him a quick smile. "No problem."

Sam didn't linger, even though he wanted to talk to James. He opened the door and left the restroom, taking a deep breath before heading back to the bar.

Peter found him again and picked up right where he left off, but that was okay.

Sam could do with the distraction.

 

~

 

The party was in full swing, but it was only hitting ten PM. Curfew for the younger models, like Peter. He'd been well behaved, if a little irritating. Sam shook the kid's hand before he left for his ride home, and said goodbye.

Once the younger models had gone, that left only the adults; anyone over twenty-one.

Sam was contracted until midnight, which was only a couple more hours. Natasha had swept by a little after ten, told Sam if he wanted a drink or two, she was fine with that. "Things are going well," she said. "It's been a good night, and the ones I was more worried about have gone home now."

"Glad to hear it," Sam told her above the pound of the music. He showed her some of the shots he'd taken on his digital camera, and she nodded in appreciation.

"Nice work," she said. "I think we have more than enough photos. You could knock off a little early if you want. Have that drink."

"And what happens if someone jumps in the champagne fountain and I'm not there to capture it?" Sam joked.

Natasha smiled dangerously. "They wouldn't dare."

Sam nodded quickly. "No. No, you're right."

Natasha kept smiling, and then walked away to mingle.

Sam went to mingle too, eyes flicking around the room for a particular brunet in a dark suit.

Where had he gone?

Sam made his way over to the champagne fountain. He figured he could get a few more shots with it in the background. People strolled by all the time and all he had to do was snap away, or ask them to smile for the camera.

After a few minutes, somebody stepped in close, and Sam looked to see James standing right there, grinning at him with a flute of champagne in each hand.

"Nat said you could use a drink."

Sam was about to argue, then realised that actually, yes, he did want this drink. He took the flute that James held out to him. "Thanks."

James just smiled, and took a sip of his own drink.

Sam did the same. He'd been wanting to see James all evening, and now here they were.

"Having a good time?" James asked.

He sounded sincere, and Sam thought he had a better read on James now.

"Yeah, it's been fun," Sam said. "How about you?"

James laughed, held up his drink. "Well, this is my first drop of alcohol, so I'm sure it's gonna get better from here."

Sam couldn't help a laugh. "Like that, huh?"

"Yeah. Between anxious chaperones and models having meltdowns in the restrooms, I think I'm owed a drink or two."

"Oh, man. Did I miss all the excitement?"

James shrugged a shoulder. "Nothing major. Kids get nervous. Agents get nervous. They all went home safe, and now I can kick back. To a degree."

"I see." Sam took a sip of his drink while watching James. "You look out for the kids."

He'd noticed that before, like the time James had convinced Maria not to fire that young model for being late.

"It's 'cause they know I'm a pushover." James smirked into his glass before taking a sip. "Anyway. Enough about me." He looked Sam up and down. "Natasha got you into a suit for this little soiree, huh?"

There was that snark again, Sam thought. But he smiled back calmly. "Looks that way."

James held his eye, and for a moment it looked like he was about to say something...

But then he took a hasty drink of his champagne instead, finishing it in one go. "I, uh. Guess I need another," he declared, and swept away just as quickly as he'd come.

Sam blinked after him, then glanced to the champagne fountain bubbling over right beside him. James could've easily gotten more champagne from there.

"Huh," he muttered, starting to think Steve and Peggy had been right.

 

At eleven PM, Sam decided he'd taken enough pictures for the night. He packed away his camera, picked up two full flutes of champagne, and went on the hunt for James.

Sam circled the room twice, and was about to give up when he spotted a figure loitering down the hall that led to the exit. Sam went out there, pleased to leave the thump of the club music behind.

James was leaning on the wall, fiddling with his phone. His face was relaxed, but he didn't look particularly happy.

"Look like you could use a drink," Sam said as he approached.

James looked up, startled. Then he seemed to recover himself and slipped his phone away. "Hey. How's it going?"

"All good." Sam held out a flute, and James accepted it.

"Thank you," he said softly.

Sam smiled at him, and the moment stretched out in silence. It didn't feel awkward though, not like before.

"So..." James said. "You done for the night?"

"Yeah, I think so. Got loads of good shots."

"But none of me." James smirked at him.

"Oh, no," Sam replied, "I got you. Talking with Natasha earlier."

James seemed surprised at that. "Oh?" he said. "Wait, when I was eating those h'orderves?"

"Yeah."

"Hope you didn't catch me with my mouth full!" James laughed.

He had a nice laugh, Sam thought.

"No, man. I don't think so. I'll only pick out the good shots anyway."

This made James laugh more. "But out-takes are my favorite! I remember when I first started modelling, I had a habit of blinking too much. All my best shots ruined by one eye half closed. My agent _hated_ me."

"That sounds kinda funny," Sam said. "A dude's gotta blink."

"Well, exactly."

They shared a smile, and Sam felt bold enough to ask, "So, I hear you got a nickname?"

James looked at him, tilted his head. "No?"

"No?" Sam's smile grew. "Sure about that?"

James's lips curved up as he fought a smile. "That probably depends on who you talk to."

Sam laughed, and now he wanted to know more. "Well, I heard it was Bucky."

James's eyes widened in surprise. "Who told you that?"

"I'm friends with Steve."

James groaned, a grin splitting his face. "Oh, man. Don't listen to a word he says."

"So that's not your nickname?"

"Uh, no, I guess it is. But no one's called me that since grade school."

"And how'd you get it?"

"By having the worst name ever." He held his hand out in a mock greeting. "James Buchanan Barnes. Nice to meet ya."

Sam shook his hand. "Sam Wilson. And likewise."

They shared a lingering look, and Sam was feeling good about this. James was actually pretty fun.

"Well, Sam," James said with a sly grin, "now we met officially an' all, what do you say about getting out of here? I know a bar round the corner where the music is much better than this."

"Is it unnecessarily loud club music?"

"Hell, no."

"Then lead the way!"

 

~

 

Sam fried bacon, pancakes, and poached eggs. The coffee was almost ready, and fresh orange juice poured. The radio played softly, just some mellow easy listening for the morning.

Breakfast was almost done, and a shuffle of feet on the linoleum floor indicated Sam's guest had finally joined him.

He turned to see James, dressed in his shirt and pants from last night, but looking very rumpled. His hair was dishevelled, and Sam thought it looked pretty good that way too. He grinned. "Hey. I made breakfast."

James blinked slowly, with a shy smile on his lips. "So I see."

"You wanna join me?" Sam indicated to the table, and was pleased when James pulled up a chair. "Coffee? Or juice?"

"Coffee, please," James croaked.

His husky voice sent Sam's mind to last night, replaying their drinks in a late night bar, the flirting and the inevitable tumbling home to Sam's apartment, and into his bed.

Sam poured a large mug of coffee and set it on the table for James.

However things turned out, Sam hoped at least that it wouldn't turn awkward between them.

They still had to see each other at the agency after all.

"Thanks," James muttered, before guzzling down half his mug.

"You wanna eat?" Sam asked. "It's ready."

"Um." James blinked at him, like he hadn't understood. Maybe he wasn't a morning person, Sam decided.

Then James smiled. "If you insist," he said playfully.

Sam grinned, and plated up two full servings of breakfast for them.

They ate together, and by his second cup of coffee James did seem more awake. He thanked Sam for the food.

"Was the party a success?" Sam asked, trying to make small talk.

But James shot him a sly grin. "Yeah, I'd say so."

Sam felt his face grow warm, but he smiled. "Only two cups of coffee to get you flirting again, huh."

"Me? Flirting?" James lifted the mug to hide his smile.

"Yeah, you."

 

They finished eating, and Sam took the plates to the sink. He was trying to think of something else to say, when James broke the silence.

"What're your plans for today?"

Sam stilled in surprise, and turned to lean against the sink as he shrugged one shoulder, looking at James. "Not much. Check over the shots I took last night, probably. Get a head start."

"Mm," James hummed, twirling his mug on the table. "Need a hand with that?"

"Sure," Sam said. He decided to leave the clear up till later, and went to his living room to grab his camera.

James followed him in, and sat on the couch. Which Sam was quietly rather excited about. He brought his camera over and sat down next to James, and plugged the camera into his laptop. "I'll just do a quick check and bookmark the best ones later," Sam said, mostly to himself.

James hummed lightly, settling into the cushions. He stayed mostly quiet as Sam checked the photos, until it came to some shots of himself standing with Maria and Natasha, in the midst of cramming some h'orderves into his mouth.

James burst out laughing, and Sam couldn't help smiling himself.

"You want personal copies of these ones?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, I'll get 'em framed," James said, wiping a tear away, "along with that beautiful work of art you showed me last night."

Sam froze, the memory of showing James that _I'm a jerk!_ picture on his phone. "Oh, shit," he laughed, "I forgot about that. I'm so sorry."

"Don't be sorry, it's the best thing I ever saw. I want it blown up and framed. I'll hang it on my wall."

"Sure thing," Sam agreed easily. "I just want to say, though, it was only because I thought you were being weird when I first met you. How was I supposed to know you're just bad at communicating?"

James snorted a laugh. "What can I say? I'm an enigma."

Sam shook his head, smiling. "Yeah, right." He flicked through more shots, and there was actually a really nice candid of James holding his drink, grinning at the ladies. "That's a good shot of you, Mr Enigma."

"You take good pictures," James replied.

Sam looked at him, pleasantly surprised. "Thanks. And you're a good model."

"Guess we make a good team." James smiled, and shifted a little closer. "What else you got planned for today?"

"Not much," Sam said as he closed his laptop. "Why? You got something in mind?"

James's smile turned into a grin, and he shifted closer. "Yeah, I got a few suggestions..."

  
~

Bright and early Monday morning, Sam pressed the buzzer for Widow's, and waited.

When James's husky voice said, "Yes?" Sam grinned to himself.

"Hey, it's Sam," he said into the speaker. "I'm here with the pictures from the party to show Maria."

"Oh," the voice replied, laced with amusement. "Well, come on up."

Sam was buzzed in, and he entered the building. Riding up in the elevator, he tried to school his features so he wasn't grinning from ear to ear because he was about to see James again.

When the elevator opened and he stepped out onto the floor, he made his way over to the reception desk straight away. There were a couple of models he didn't know sat in the waiting area, so Sam kept his voice low as he leaned in on the desk and said, "Hey."

James was lounging back in his swivel chair, a smile playing on his lips and looking particularly handsome in a crisp, navy blue suit.

"Well, hello, sir. Have you got a pass?" he asked, eyes sparkling with mischief.

"No, I don't believe I have," Sam replied.

"Guess we better fill one out then," James said with a put upon sigh. He shot Sam a smirk as he offered him a pen. "If you could just write your details?"

"With pleasure." Sam went to take the pen, had to tug it gently from James's hand as James wouldn't let it go.

Sam smiled and shook his head a little as he looked down at the pass. "How many times I gotta fill these out anyway?" he asked, writing in his name.

James was quiet a beat, folded his arms on the desk as he leaned in. "Have to see about getting you a permanent one, won't we."

Sam glanced up, found James looking at him with a shy smile, before he cleared his throat and leaned back in his chair again.

"If you want to, of course," James added.

"I think I could go for that," Sam said, quietly thrilled. "Sounds good."

James smiled at him, looking pleased. "I'll get on it right away, then."

A pink blush was staining his cheeks, and Sam couldn't look away, mind wandering back to how flushed James had looked yesterday while they fooled around.

"I'll look forward to it," Sam said.

Someone cleared their throat, and they both looked up to find Maria waiting on them. "Got those pictures, Sam?" she asked.

"Yes. Yeah, I got 'em." Sam tried to hide his smirk, and handed James back his pen. "Just, uh. Just getting my pass."

"I noticed," Maria said dryly.

Sam got his things together, shooting James a quick glance before he left the desk.

Lounging back in his chair, twirling the pen in his fingers, James called out, "Have fun looking at your pictures."

"Oh, I will," Sam replied, remembering how amused James had been with his own shots, and his warm laughter. "Gonna blow some up, make them into posters."

James barked a laugh at that. "Can't wait."

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> ~ ~ ~
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> ~
> 
> There is a rebloggable post on tumblr [here](https://jro616.tumblr.com/post/165615881765/model-behavior).
> 
> Artist [waltermittie](http://waltermittie.tumblr.com) is also on tumblr.
> 
>  
> 
> ~
> 
> Happy Sam-tember!!


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